


How to struggle gracefully

by SkyScribbles



Series: A thousand fingerprints on the surfaces of who I am [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Background Veth/Yeza, Dialogue Heavy, Emotionally Abusive Parenting, Fancy dinners, Gen, I don't think Deirta is a good mother you guys, Post C2E99, Supportive Found Family, Veth is forced to unpack some insecurities, family tensions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyScribbles/pseuds/SkyScribbles
Summary: ‘Essek.’ Jester draws out the second syllable, and the tension in the air dies down fromboilingtoon a low simmer.‘Why do you keep calling her ‘the Umavi’? She’s your mom, right?’Essek’s smile softens slightly, but it's still thin-lipped. Mirthless. ‘You will not be there to meet my mother, Jester. You will be there for a formal introduction to the head of Den Thelyss.’(In which the Mighty Nein have dinner with Deirta Thelyss, and learn where the venom in Essek's veins came from.)
Relationships: Deirta Thelyss & Essek Thelyss, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss, Veth Brenatto & Essek Thelyss
Series: A thousand fingerprints on the surfaces of who I am [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874992
Comments: 89
Kudos: 678





	How to struggle gracefully

**Author's Note:**

> We don't know much about Deirta Thelyss, so my portrayal of her is guesswork based on how Essek turned out and how Dynasty society works.
> 
> We also don't know what's going on with (spoilers for the EGTW fireside chat) Essek not being consecuted, so I've tried to make the situation ambiguous in this fic. Is he lying? Did the ritual fail somehow? Does Deirta know? We just don't know...

Veth is painfully confused.

Because here’s how things work, when someone uses you, or kidnaps someone you love, or unleashes chaos on the world: you kill them. You kill them, like Lorenzo, like Avantika, like Obann. You tear their little castle down with crossbow bolts and magic and fists and blood and sweat, and you make sure there’s not enough of them left to come back to hurt the people you love and protect. That’s how it goes. That's how it makes sense. That's how it's meant to be.

Until now. Until Essek. Until he ticked all the boxes for the kill list, and they didn’t kill him. And they’re still not killing him; they're following him to a dinner party. At his house. To meet his mother.

He drifted round a few days ago, bringing a box of pastries for Jester and a quiet announcement that the Umavi of Den Thelyss was interested in meeting them. ‘A formal dinner,’ he said. ‘In the Thelyss estate. You’ll be expected to dress for the occasion, but I know from experience that you won’t find that difficult.’

‘Why now?’ Beau leaned against the wall, arms folded, fixing Essek with her judgiest judgemental face. ‘We’ve been hanging around here for months on your Den’s money. Why does she suddenly care about us?’

Essek smiled, the thin-lipped, fake-amused smile that he used to give to them when they first met him. ‘I’m not going to pretend it’s an altruistic gesture. With the conclusion of the peace negotiations, you’ve achieved the goal you claimed to be pursuing. That makes you… unpredictable, in the Denmother’s eyes.’

‘Right,’ Beau says. ‘So your mom wants to know what we’re planning, now that we stopped the war you started?’

For all their talk of Essek being a hot boy, the look he turned on Beau was cool as metal. Veth waited for the two of them to begin another verbal slappy-hands fight, but Caleb coughed and stepped between them in a way he probably thought was subtle. ‘Does your den think we have outlived our usefulness?’

‘Not at all. I don’t mean to suggest that the Umavi plans to turn you out of Rosohna. To drum out the heroes who returned the Beacon would reflect very poorly indeed upon Den Thelyss’s hospitality. Besides, since you are under my wing, so to speak, your deeds reflect on the Den. If you can return the body of a god –’ His voice, for a second, is as acid as Yeza’s compounds – ‘and end a war, what other great works might you contribute, for which the Den can claim some credit? _That_ is what the Umavi wishes to learn.’

Beau snorted. ‘Keeping us close to figure out what we want and how to use it. Sounds familiar.’

‘Well, you have always been on your guard with me, have you not? I advise you to maintain that guard around the Umavi.’

‘Essek.’ Jester draws out the second syllable, and the tension in the air dies down from _boiling_ to _on a low simmer._ ‘Why do you keep calling her ‘the Umavi’? She’s your mom, right?’

Essek’s smile softens slightly, but it's still thin-lipped. Mirthless. ‘You will not be there to meet my mother, Jester. You will be there for a formal introduction to the head of Den Thelyss.’

‘Hyunggh,’ Jester says – which sums up Veth’s own feelings towards this situation nicely – and scrunches her face. ‘Is this politics again?’

‘I am afraid so.’

So here they are, three days later, following Essek through the grounds of the Thelyss estate – _grounds,_ they have grounds, bigger than all the land owned by Veth’s ten nearest neighbours back in Felderwin put together. Filled with fountains that throw out water in ways that catch the moonlight, statues that gleam like silver. In a foyer, a bunch of servants emerge to take their cloaks, then vanish, and Essek hovers outside a dark wooden door inlaid with pale metal.

(Hovers. Veth doesn’t much care for this version of Essek, the cool, snippy, sharp-tongued version who floats. Which should be fine. Which should let her hate him for what he did to Yeza and carry on. But honestly, she kind of _misses_ the awkward Essek who didn’t float, who stumbled over small talk. And she feels like she’s part of the reason that they don’t see that Essek very much anymore.)

‘I would ask you all to be… _conscious_ of the impression you make,' he says. The Umavi has lived almost as many lifetimes as the Bright Queen; she is used to being surrounded by an air of –’ He hesitates – ‘Gravity.’

Jester nods seriously. 'We are _so_ good at being gravity-ish. I mean, not as good as you, because you’re like, _the_ gravity guy, but we can definitely have a lot of gravity.’

Essek’s lips twist weirdly, like he’s not sure whether he wants to smile or grimace. ‘My advice is to wait until you have all been introduced before you speak. Do not give her any reason to think you a liability, do not challenge her too directly, and most of all, do _not_ interrupt her.' He takes in a breath, turns, and reaches for the door. ‘Are you all ready?’

The chamber he leads them into is dizzyingly huge, the table is long enough to fit a party twice their number, and Veth is sure that the goblets are _crystal,_ not glass. The cutlery is definitely silver. But it’s hard to focus on the table itself when the woman seated at the end rises – and Veth understands, right away, what Essek meant by _gravity._ There’s something about the way that Deirta Thelyss stands and moves and breathes that draws Veth's focus and grips it. That commands every eye to turn to her and stay on her, the way the planet demands obedience from the moons. (That’s how Caleb says the moons work, anyway. Veth believes him. He’s Caleb.)

And she’s immaculate, as Essek’s mother would be: blue dress so dark it’s almost black. Rings in her ear, beads in her hair, necklace clasped at her throat – startlingly warm gold against the cool tones of her dress. Like sunlight against the night sky.

Veth glances at Beau. Her face is showing a very plain statement of _fuck-why-do-all-my-friends-have-hot-moms._

The Umavi raises one jewelled hand, and gestures to the table. ‘Please sit, all of you.’

Essek drifts into the seat at the Umavi’s right, and there’s a pause, because if there was supposed to be a seating plan, no one's bothered to tell them what it is. Jester’s the first to move, slipping in beside Essek. Caleb sits opposite him – Veth tries very hard not to read too deeply into that – and everyone else slots themselves in around that arrangement. There’s a lot of chair-scraping; then the Umavi looks at each of them in turn, and lets the silence last. And last. Veth fights the urge to cough.

‘If you could introduce us?’ the Umavi says at last, and Essek dips his head.

‘Mighty Nein, I present Umavi Deirta Thelyss, head of Den Thelyss, one of the Dynasty’s three perfect souls, she who knows the true purpose for which her soul was made and given by the grace of the Luxon's light.’ (Veth is strongly reminded of Luc reciting lists of things that he’s memorised in school.) ‘Umavi, I present the Mighty Nein, heroes of the Dynasty. By name: Caleb Widogast, a child of the Empire and an arcanist of great skill. Beauregard, of the Cobalt Soul –’

‘ _Expositor_ Beauregard.’

‘ – Expositor with the Cobalt Soul, my apologies. Jester Lavorre of Nicodranas, daughter of the esteemed Ruby of the Sea –’

He goes through them all, one by one, and there’s silence again. Then a door opens, and a few of the servants (why, _why_ is Veth being waited on by _servants._ It’s nice, sure, but it’s fucking _surreal)_ slide inside, carrying plates.

‘First of all,’ the Umavi says, as the table fills with food, ‘I thank you, on behalf on the Dynasty and my Den, for all you’ve done. I was present when the Beacon was returned, and I know how instrumental you have been in arranging this peace. I’m glad that Den Thelyss could provide you with a harbourage during such vital work.’

Fjord clears his throat. ‘We, uh, we all deeply appreciate your generosity in granting us such a fine place to stay. It’s been quite the sanctuary for us.’

‘We grew a tree on the roof,’ Jester says. ‘Have you seen it? It’s super tall.’

‘I have not seen it, except from a distance. But I’ve heard it caused something of a stir.’ The Umavi picks up her wine glass – it’s a rich purple liquid, the bottle probably more expensive than Veth’s old house – and says, ‘I’m curious, as are many in the Den, as to what brought a group from such disparate origins to become such assets to our nation, and to my Den.’

There’s a pause. Veth glances at the others, sees that they’re looking at her, and takes a hefty gulp from her wine before saying,‘Well, your, uh… your son was sort of holding my husband prisoner.’

‘Of course; I remember your request, during your first audience with the Bright Queen. But what compelled you to stay, once you had what you wanted? What mattered so deeply to you that you would ensure your presence at the peace negotiations?’

This seems like Caleb’s thing, and, yep, it’s Caleb who speaks. ‘Well, we have all seen and felt the consequences of this war. We have had a friend packed off to the front lines, another wounded in battle. We have seen people within the Empire spreading poison among their own people. I cannot speak for all of us, but for those of us who are of the Empire – we cannot sit back and watch that canker take root at the heart of our home, in the hearts of good people. Such selfishness is not worth the lives of many, on both sides.’

Over the rim of her glass, the Umavi’s lips curl upwards – a smile that’s more intrigued, Veth thinks, than warm. ‘An altruist, then.’

Caleb looks a little taken aback, which he shouldn't. The Umavi's right; he's a kind young man. ‘In certain respects, I suppose.’

A plate slides onto the table in front of Veth. Some kind of grilled vegetable. It’s almost offensively small, until she remembers that fancy houses like to serve small courses before the real dinner, which explains why there are multiple sets of cutlery on the table. Shit. There’s obviously a wrong fork and a right fork to use for this, but they all just look like _forks,_ forks are forks –

‘This is yuyandil,’ Essek says, whatever yuyandil is supposed to be – and as Veth glances at him, he looks back and catches her eye. One hand slips from his cloak and taps one of the forks in front of him, very lightly.

Veth breathes out, picks up the matching fork in front of her, and nods her thanks. Because husband-kidnapper or not, he just saved her ass. Or at least saved her from committing cutlery crimes. Essek nods back, and Veth watches him lock eyes with Fjord, Caduceus and Yasha in turn, repeating the gesture.

‘But even then,’ the Umavi says, either not seeing this or not commenting on it, ‘peace has been achieved now. Yet you stay in a land far from your home, with unfamiliar customs. Even our sky is strange to you.’

Caduceus looks up from his plate. ‘Well, we all have our own things that we want to get done. And there are… people in play here who’ve been pulling the strings of everybody involved in this, and it’s important to us to make sure they’re stopped. It’s a little easier to fight people like that when you’ve got a home to go back to, and people giving you a little support.’

‘Essek has been super helpful with that,’ Jester says, swallowing down her mouthful of yuya-whatever. ‘He’s taken us _so_ many places to help us fight this cult – he took us to this mountain, and to a forest, and to this dragon lair… that’s another reason we like staying around here, because, you know. Essek’s been really nice and cool.’

The table gets almost imperceptibly quieter. For a moment, Veth isn’t sure why; then she realises that Essek has stopped eating.

The Umavi’s head tilts to one side. ‘And what were these goals of yours, that required Essek’s assistance? These missions of your own?’

Veth looks down. Rubs the skin of her beautiful, real, not-goblin arms. This was her goal, and Essek helped. Essek’s words and equations were part of the incantation that put her back in her skin. Which is awkward and uncomfortable to think about, so she puts that thought into a mental box, puts that box in another box, and fires an explosive bolt at it.

‘Well, he's been helping Caleb and Veth with some, um, magical endeavours,’ says Fjord, when no one else speaks. ‘And he took us to find Caduceus's family, when they were missing. His skills have been quite the time-saver.'

Jester nods vigorously. ‘He took us _so_ far away and stayed to make sure we’d got the right place, even though he had to go out in the sun and _everything._ ’

‘You’re all making me sound more generous than I can take credit for,’ Essek says, with a quiet chuckle. 'It's only been a few hours of my time.'

Okay, that’s _weird._ Essek is a lot of things, like handsome and charming and war-criminal-y, but Veth's never considered modest to be one of them.

‘That isn’t true,’ Yasha says, quietly. ‘You helped us a lot of times.’

Veth nods. ‘Yeah, and half those times you complained about how many spells you were wasting on us.’

The Umavi turns to look at her, head still tilted a little, and Veth waits for her to smile. To poke fond fun at her son's complaining, or to praise him. To tell Essek that he’s a kind boy, helping people with things that don’t really help him. To tell all of them how smart Essek is, and how it’s very impressive, isn’t it, knowing teleportation magic at his age?

Instead she says, ‘I’m glad the Shadowhand was able to spare such time from his duties.’

Essek looks down, and says nothing.

A few minutes pass, during which the weird pre-meal-meal is finished, and the main course is carried in. The Umavi picks up another of her far-too-many forks and says, ‘So. What are your immediate plans, now that the peace is settled?’

Jester glances at Fjord, and when he nods, says, ‘We’re, uh, we’re going to do something for Fjord, soon. We were kind of hoping that Essek could take us there? We need to stop this monster sea snake thing –’ (‘Snea snake,’ Veth mouths to herself) ‘-and if we could get there faster, Essek, it would really help Fjord _so_ much. You could even, you know, you could come with us and help out a little bit, ‘cause you’re super powerful and we might end up fighting a sea snake god.’

Essek blinks. ‘Well, if I –’

He sounds wary, but not reluctant – but before Veth finds out whether she’ll get to watch Essek fancypants Thelyss put up with mud and mosquitoes, the Umavi says, ‘Please, do bear in mind: the Shadowhand has a great many commitments here.’

Her voice is light, gentle. Her eyes are not. Veth knows gentleness; gentleness is Caleb ruffling her hair and Caduceus’s tea and Jester’s hugs and Yeza’s eyes, Yeza’s hands, Yeza’s lips, every last fucking inch of Yeza.

There’s none of that in what Deirta Thelyss just said. Gentleness is not calling your son _the Shadowhand._

‘He’s got to stop working sometimes,’ Beau says. She isn’t eating, and somehow, Veth doesn’t think it’s because the meal in front of them definitely contains spider legs.

The Umavi regards her for a second. Raises a napkin to her lips, dabs, and replaces it on the table with mechanical precision. ‘Understand: the Dens exist in a careful balance. Den Thelyss has a well-earned position of prominence within the Dynasty, but every Den is… I think the Common expression is _a sum of its parts?_ Like the front line of an army, we are strong only while every member presents an indomitable front to the world.’

‘And, uh – ’ Veth hesitates, unsure if this counts as interrupting, which Essek said she shouldn’t do, but the Umavi nods for her to go on – ‘Essek hanging out with us and bamfing us places is - embarrassing or something? Are the other Dens going to be, like, 'Oh shit, the Shadowhand's wasting all his time on Empire people! Guess Den Thelyss is losing its touch!"

‘It is partly a matter of reputation, yes. It's also a matter of Essek's own well-being.'

Veth shoots a glance around the table, and decides - based on Caduceus's frown and Jester's screwed-up face and Yasha's quizzical head-tilt - that this makes as little sense to everyone else as it does to her.

'Let me explain. Many of Den Thelyss can take up the prestige of their old lives as soon as they undergo anamnesis. They are the blessed, who inherit the enlightenment of centuries of existence. Those who are new souls –’ Deirta gestures to Essek, now staring resolutely at his spider legs – ‘they enter this world raw and unrefined. They do not yet understand their purpose. The less scrupulous among other Dens look to such unenlightened souls, wondering if their ignorance makes them the weak point in the frontline. It is the Den’s duty, of course, to protect and uplift our new souls. And in turn, our new souls… they must make every second count.'

Veth becomes aware that Caleb, across the table, is studying Essek's face with the kind of intensity he usually reserves for spell scrolls.

'My hope for the future,' the Umavi says, 'is that now this peace is secured, Den Thelyss can help Xhorhas gain a little more respect in the eyes of the world. We must banish misconceptions and assert our strength, show what a people united in their faith and purpose are capable of. For that, every member of Den Thelyss must work towards that purpose. We cannot afford to have even one soul slip away from the path and potential that the Luxon has set out. My son is no exception. For the Den's sake, and for his own, he cannot be an exception.'

Essek picks up his wine and takes a long, long sip.

He looks - the only word Veth can think of is _blank_. Like he’s drawing all his feelings deep inside his cloak, where no one can see them or hurt them. And suddenly Veth’s not seeing the war criminal who took her husband and crushed a woman’s ribs with a clench of his fist. Deirta is calling her son unrefined and ignorant and time-wasting, masking all of it with a delicate smile, and all Veth can see is Beau facing that shithead excuse for a father, she’s seeing Caleb facing Icky-thong, she’s seeing a _boy –_

And before she knows she's going to do it, she's speaking.

‘You know, I'm, um, I'm a mother myself. I’ve got a boy who’s – he’s a lot younger than yours, only just starting school, but he’s _very_ smart. And obviously Essek’s nowhere near as clever as my five-year-old, but no one is, except my husband and Caleb, and I’ve seen Essek do some very impressive things with his magic.' _Like give me my own skin back_. 'I know what it's like, to want to see your child grow and thrive and make the most of their talents, and he's, um. I think he's doing okay with that. You must be very proud.’

She’s got no idea what she’s doing. Maybe she just wants Deirta to say that yes, she's proud, and yes, she loves her son. Because then she'll be an okay mother and Essek will be just a problem kid, and Veth can keep being angry with him and things can make _sense_ _._

But what Deirta says is, ‘Essek has risen far, of course. He has taken the first steps towards the refinement of his soul. As long as he maintains such focus, any future lives he has will be able to look back with pride.’

Caleb looks at Essek, the Umavi, the table, and back at the Umavi. 'Well, he will not need to be reborn for some time, I hope. For now, you have the privilege of knowing that your son, being a newcomer, has invented something entirely new. Creation is always to be admired. It’s a pity that your rival dens would see such innovation as a weakness.’

‘Yeah,’ Beau says, and the word is brittle, rigid. ‘He’s pretty smart right now without having to die a few times.’

Jester nods. ‘And he’s really nice to us right now. Just as him.’

Seconds pass. Essek says, quietly, ‘You’re all very kind.’

There’s a pause, quieter than any of the pauses so far. Beau has gone stiff, like she’s being turned to stone all over again. Caduceus is watching Essek the way he watches his friends after a battle, scanning for signs that he needs to heal them. Only the Umavi is still eating. Essek is staring at the table again, and frowning like he’s steeling himself for something, and Veth has an awful feeling that the tension, which is back on ‘simmering,’ might just be about to boil over -

‘If I may, Umavi,’ Essek says, abruptly. ( _Yep,_ Veth thinks. _Here we go_.) ‘I assure you that it is not a - a _diversion,_ to be assisting my friends here. I do it for the same reason that we offered them a house: so that a group who perform considerable acts of heroism for the Dynasty may be at their best.’

The Umavi’s eyes flick in his direction. ‘That’s very generous of you,’ she says, and how is the word _generous_ sounding like an insult? ‘I simply ask you – all of you – to bear in mind how much attention a man in your position can spare for such matters. And how _public_ you have been about that generosity.’

Essek breathes in. Then, with a smile, like this is all light-hearted, which it isn't, ‘I'm not especially worried about the criticism of the other dens. I am not a child; I can survive a little gossip.’

The Umavi sets down her cutlery. ‘We will discuss it later. This is not a conversation to have in company.’

Essek does not look at her. His hands are tight around his fork, knuckles turning pale. ‘And if my _purpose_ involves involves ignoring the needs of allies and friends, then –’

‘ _Enough,_ Essek.’ The words are whip-cracks. ‘We will not have this conversation in front of guests. It is humiliating. To me, and to yourself.’

Silence. Essek draws his hands into his lap. There's rage in the hard set of his shoulders, but the fight's gone from his face, like it was never there.

It’s Caduceus who breaks the tension, because no one softens a moment’s edges like he does. ‘Just out of interest, how do you grow these vegetables? Honestly, it’s amazing that you can grow food this good without the sun, I’m very curious.’

The Umavi’s gaze turns away from Essek and onto him, and in half a minute, Caduceus has her explaining Rosohna’s underwater farms and irrigation, and he’s nodding and smiling and saying ‘uh huh,’ and the Umavi definitely doesn’t notice Jester reach out under the table and take hold of Essek’s hand. And while Caduceus buys them their reprieve, Veth swallows her now-tasteless mouthful of spider and thinks, _this is a very bad mother._

And then, _takes one to know one._

No. Veth kicks the insidious little voice in her head away. It’s not the same. Being turned into a goblin, needing to fix it - that isn’t anything like having your boy _right there,_ smart and lonely and needing you, and deciding that he’s weak and ignorant because he didn’t get reborn as some fucking prince or something.

_But you weren’t there. For two years, you weren’t there. Do you think Luc’s ever going to forget that? Essek was probably a good boy once. And then he had a bad mother, and look what he became._

No. No no no. Luc can’t. He can’t turn out like Essek just because Veth let him down. Because then someone will need to stop him or punish him and they _shouldn’t,_ it wouldn’t be _fair,_ and Veth feels sick, and she puts down her fork and grips her beautiful halfling hands together under the table and _no,_ not her boy, her boy cannot ever be bad and nothing bad can ever happen to him. And she’s not Deirta, she’s _not,_ she’s saving the world and she’s _better_ now, she’s _herself,_ and isn’t that enough? Isn’t that enough to save Luc?

She’d laugh, if her mouth wasn’t full of spider. When has she _ever_ been enough?

The Umavi's subtle, smiling cruelty doesn't show again throughout the meal, mostly because whenever her attention turns to Essek, Jester starts asking if she’s heard of the Traveler, or Caleb asks about Xhorhas history, or Caduceus asks about vegetables. The meal ends, at fucking last, and the Umavi tells them it was a pleasure to meet them all, that she’s glad to call them allies of Den Thelyss, and that she hopes they’ll remain so – which is a veiled threat if Veth’s ever heard one.

Essek offers to walk them home, so out they go, no one speaking as they collect their cloaks and head through the grounds, out of the gates, and into the lantern-lit streets. The moment the Thelyss estate is out of sight, Beau sucks in a breath and says, ‘Holy _fuck,_ Essek.’

He chuckles, the same way he did when he told Veth that the sunlight didn’t hurt too badly. ‘She can be rather intense. But you all did well, considering.’

‘That’s not what I fucking meant. Your future lives can be proud of you? What the _fuck?’_ She stomps on for a moment, then says, ‘You should’ve just led with the mommy issues thing ages ago. Would've made a lot of things make sense.’

‘She was really horrible to you, Essek,’ Jester says, very softly, and puts one hand on where Essek's arm probably is – though who knows whether his body doesn’t just disappear into a pocket dimension when he’s got that cloak on. ‘I'm really, really sorry if we said anything that got you in trouble. Has she been like that your whole life? Does she just treat you like you're only going to matter once you die a bunch of times?'

‘She is the Umavi,’ Essek says, as if that explains everything. ‘She is, supposedly, preparing to face the Luxon and achieve true understanding of its purpose and her own. Whatever such a thing means. Perhaps when one's sights are fixed on _purposes_ and _true potentials_ for so many lifetimes, it become difficult to get truly attached to anything more mundane. She hopes that every child of hers will reach some...' He hesitates, pulling a face. 'Some shining standard of enlightenment. But it would take thousands of years for me to do so, even if I were interested in such a thing. Consecuted or not, she may not be there to see me reach this... perfection. _'_

Beau's hands are clenching into fists, uncurling, and clenching again. 'So she thinks that's a reason to not give a shit?'

'Enough reason to keep me at arm's length, I think. There was a - a degree of expectation that her children would be returning souls, already on the path to this so-called enlightenment, and with prestige to bring to the Den. I’m sure that if I had turned out to be some old acquaintance of hers, she could have dredged up some affection, but I…’ Another strained chuckle. ‘But I went through my adolescence, and remained… just Essek.’

Veth stops walking.

Because Essek is smiling like he could make it all hurt less if he pretends it doesn’t hurt, and she understands: Essek hot boy Thelyss is ashamed.

Or – or maybe he’s not ashamed, exactly. But all of the Beacon-stealing, the husband-kidnapping, the war-starting - it’s the backlash to having shame force-fed to him, his reaction to having splinters of it lodged deep inside him. His mother was ashamed of him just for being _Essek._ For being not-an-ancient-soul. For being not wise enough, not famous enough, not good enough. For being _not._

( _Not pretty, not smart,_ say her brothers’ voices in her head. _Not good,_ says her own voice as she stares at her jagged-toothed reflection in the river. _Not right, not brave.)_

And for the first time since he sat slumped on a crate before them, Veth might just understand Essek. Because she understands the fuck out of shame.

She also understands, in this moment: she isn’t Deirta. Because Veth has something Deirta doesn’t. _She is trying._ Veth wasn’t there for Luc, and she’s still messy when it comes to Luc, but she is going to _try._ She is going to get to know her boy and love him with every beat of her heart and she will _keep fucking trying._

Deirta has not tried. Not once.

‘You’re not _just Essek,’_ Veth snaps. ‘You’re her _boy._ Your mother had a smart boy who needed her and she didn’t even _try_ to care, just because you were you, and that’s shitty, and I wish I'd stolen all her fucking fancy forks.’

‘ _That,’_ says Beau, and ‘mm-hmm,’ says Fjord, and ‘I don’t think we need to add anything to that,’ says Caduceus, and ‘I could always kill her,’ says Yasha.

Essek looks at them. Swallows. He doesn’t say anything, and Veth isn’t sure if he can.

‘Why don’t you come back with us, Essek?’ Jester says. She’s still holding his arm. ‘We can have tea and pastries and stuff, and we have a spare room, and then if your mom wants to go to your place and yell at you for talking back to her, then… surprise, you won’t be there! She’ll be like, oh man, where did Essek go, I shouldn’t have been a piece of shit to him!’

‘Such a change of heart is unlikely, but…’ Essek makes a few odd shapes with his mouth, then says, ‘As long as I… I wouldn’t be imposing?’

A chorus of nos, and Essek smiles again. A for-real smile.

(They should, Veth decides as they walk, take Essek off the list. Or perhaps they can put him not on the actual list, but in a little note right at the end, with a ‘maybe?’ over the top.)

They reach the Xhorhaus, and spend an hour with tea and snacks, and then Veth surprises everyone by offering to show Essek to the guest room. It’s partly to make sure that Caleb doesn’t offer, because Veth really doesn’t want to think about how _that_ might go – but it's a little bit of wanting to make sure he's looked after, too. And it's so that once they’re out of earshot of the group, Veth can turn to him and say, ‘You kidnapped my husband.’

Essek purses his lips. Looks at the floor. ‘I did.’

‘You should be – I don’t know, you should be held accountable, somehow. You took him away from our boy and you hurt him and you scared my son. I don’t forgive you.’

‘I have no expectations of forgiveness.’

They reach the door to the guest room, and Veth turns to face him, blocking his way in. ‘But – I guess some people are like Cad and Jessie, they can forgive easily, and for other people, it’s... I don't know, it's tricky. It’s messy.’ Like being a parent is tricky. Like being good is messy. ‘You still _chose_ what you did and it was still awful, and your mother being awful doesn't change that, but I - I understand a bit now about where all this came from.' She waves a hand at him. 'And I meant what I said, about you being broken and finding a heart. I _like_ the version of you that’s got a heart. So if you can keep being that version of you, and don’t hurt my family again, then…’

She trails off, because ending that sentence with _then maybe I won’t have to shoot you_ doesn’t feel right, somehow. 'I guess I'll try. The forgiving thing. I mean, you're still on _thin fucking ice_ , but... yeah.’

There’s a pause. Then Essek says, ‘I’ve been… concerned, that you perhaps regretted the invitation you made.’

Yeah, she remembers that. _Welcome to the Mighty Nein._ She said that in a moment when she was looking at a scared kid. She thinks that once Essek was gone, and Veth was left to look at the beautiful face of the husband he hurt, she lost sight of that kid.

She sees him again now. And she won’t forget him, any more than she’ll forget the war-starter. Both Esseks are the real Essek. He’s a mess, just like her. Like all of them.

‘Well, I don’t regret it.’ she says. ‘Yet. So get your arse inside and get some proper sleep or – or some proper elfy trancing thing. And, uh.’ She rubs her arms again. Her beautiful _real_ arms. ‘Thanks for, you know, helping with that spell. You took my husband away, but then helped give the real me back to my husband too. So, er. Thank you.’

She shoves the door open, and stands aside. Essek looks at her for a moment, then nods. ‘You are welcome. Goodnight, Veth.’

And he walks – _walks_ – inside. Into a room in a house that’s filled with family who’ll take care of him.

Veth still doesn’t forgive him, any more than she did five minutes ago. But she’ll get there, she thinks. She’ll try.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Son' by Sleeping At Last.
> 
> Deirta's look comes from [ this amazing art ](https://fiovske.tumblr.com/post/615319625246326784/she-has-very-strong-bad-distant-parent-vibes-i)by eldritch_beau!


End file.
